The Courtyard by Marcia Willett Page A

was how on earth Gillian had taken the news. There certainly seemed to be no change in her behaviour which was still casual, easygoing, natural. She often spoke to Henry in a way that made Gussie wince, making no effort to dissemble or hide her feelings in any way and, after a while, Gussie managed to harden herself to it. It didn’t take long for Gussie to discover that Gillian was rarely around during the daytime and often not in the evening either but she tried to keep out of their way as much as she could, spending time in her own rooms, in the grounds and in the kitchen with Mrs Ridley. Here a real alliance had sprung up, neither of them saying much but both definitely on the same side. Sometimes Gillian spent the night with her friend Lucy in Exeter and, whenever she appeared in the kitchen with this particular piece of information, the two women would stiffen at their tasks and when she’d gone their eyes would meet and exchange a look of understanding.
    â€˜Real fond o’ that Lucy,’ Mrs Ridley would say, kneading dough with a rhythmic twist of the wrist.
    â€˜I never think of Gillian as a girl who gets on particularly well with her own sex,’ Gussie would say thoughtfully, polishing the silver.
    â€˜Which is quite wrong of me, Lord,’ said Gussie now, looking out over the woods. ‘Encouraging Mrs Ridley to gossip and undermining her employer’s wife. Not to mention making judgements. “Judge
not, lest ye be likewise judged.” But I know quite well that she is deceiving Henry and it’s a terrible thing to have to stand by and do nothing. I know that You will deal with her accordingly. “Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.” But it’s hard. You’ve got to admit.’ She paused, wondering why it was so hard, and discovered a tiny unpalatable truth lurking in a dark corner of her mind. She hauled it out into the light and had a good look at it. Presently she sighed. ‘You’re quite right of course, Lord. Always the dear self. The truth of the matter is that I find it very hard to let her go on believing I’m such a stupid old woman that I can’t see what she’s up to.’
    She leaned forward to watch Mr Ridley cutting the lawns which ran down to the Courtyard. She knew that he loved his mowing, seated on the machine, driving to and fro across the grass: his cap was perched at an angle and even the set of his shoulders looked jaunty. Gussie smiled and then looked serious again. Her second thought, after her arrival, had been for Nell. She missed her so much and was eternally grateful for all she had done for her during the last three years. She knew now that she would never have managed without her, especially during the last year. Nell may not have offered her a home but she too had made her feel needed. Despite the age difference she was the best and dearest friend Gussie had ever had and the one fly in the ointment was leaving Nell behind. She told them this one evening during supper and Henry insisted Nell should come to stay whenever she was able to and Gillian smiled at him oddly and said she certainly must, and John and Jack, too. Henry had blinked a little and said that, naturally, they were all welcome. Gussie remembered this little scene now, with the sun warm on her back and the swallows wheeling above her, and she frowned a little. There had been something in Gillian’s voice …
    â€˜â€œThe flowers that bloom in the spring, tra-la …” ’
    She turned in surprise as Henry came out on to the terrace behind her. She’d assumed that he was helping with the silage at Higher Nethercombe since the tenant farmer had broken his ankle. Henry
was always ready to muck in and lend a hand wherever it might be needed.
    â€˜Wonderful day!’ he said. ‘Watching the swallows? Mrs Ridley says is it warm enough to have coffee out here?’
    He was tilting back the wrought-iron chairs which